


Autumn Leaves

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Les has started a collection of leaves around the house, and David is less than pleased.





	Autumn Leaves

“Why’s there a leaf on the table?”  David asked.  He’d come home a couple hours of after Les, as his school let out later in the day, and he had a habit of staying after a few minutes more often than not to chat with his literature teacher and avoid the other students. 

“I liked it,” Les said with a shrug. 

The leaf was clearly the giant of its clan, and it boasted bright splashes of orange, yellow, red, and even a residual hint of summery green.  David put his heavy schoolbag down on the desk, smiled, and picked it up to take a closer look. 

“It’s nice,” he said.  “Did you find it in the school yard?” 

“Yep.  I’m going to pick up a million of them this week.” 

“They’ll rot,” David pointed out. 

“I’ll do it quickly.” 

David considered pointing out that a single leaf was an awfully slow start, but thought better of it.  One on the table was nice to come home to, but the last thing he wanted to do was goad Les into bringing home an actual million of the things.   
As the week went on, David kept finding leaves in weird places, including an entire drawer full in the desk he usually used.  The leaves were pretty and they smelled nice, but they were also damp, and David could have sworn he saw a spider ambling through them.  He pulled away rapidly.  

“You can’t keep them there,” he said.  Les looked at him as if heartbroken for a moment, before putting his hands on his hips in defiance. 

“It’s not _your_ desk anyway.”

“Well, I’m the only one who ever does work at it.” 

“It’s everybody’s desk.  You’ve gotta quit taking it all for yourself!”

It wasn’t often that Les had a tantrum of any kind.  He was too old for it, and he knew better.  He did, however, punctuate his words with something very close to a stomp of his feet, and that was enough to spur David into action.  Forgetting about the spider, David gathered the leaves into his arms, and carried them to the trash. 

“Don’t!” Les tried to order, but to no avail. 

“You’re going to use the desk,” David ordered. 

“Not now that you’ve stolen all my leaves.” 

“For homework.  You’re going to do your homework there, for one hour.” 

It wasn’t easy to get Les to go along with it, but eventually he complied, scratching away miserably at his sums, and writing out an essay on his hopes for the new school year.  David watched him, perched at the kitchen table, ready to jump up should Les try to run.  In truth, though, he felt pretty awful about it.  Les looked so unhappy, and that wasn’t what David wanted for his brother.    

“Why did you want all those leaves anyway?” David asked finally, about an hour later.  His voice was gentler than it had been earlier. 

“To jump in.  In a pile.  I read a book about a kid who did that, but they won’t let us do it in the school yard because they say it’s dirty.” 

David sighed.  There was a tree on the street near their home, but it was uninspiring at best.  The leaves, insofar as it had any, were and always had been the color of dust. 

“I’ll take you to central park on the weekend,” David promised.  “We’ll find some leaves for you to jump in there.”

Les rose from his place at the desk and gave David a hug.


End file.
